House of Black
by EagerTurtle
Summary: Her wand broken and her back a Death Eater target, Harriet Potter is forced to spend a lot more quality time with her godfather than she ever bargained for. Fem!Harry/Sirius.
1. Chapter 1

AN: This takes place shortly after the dementors attack Harry and Dudley at the beginning of Order of the Phoenix, starting with the hearing for Harry's use of underage magic against them. It's loosely based on some of the events that happen in the book. Any and all criticism is welcome! I try to get back to everyone who leaves a comment, so please do! Feel free to leave a review of what you think or PM me.

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><p>"Late to your own hearing, are you girl?" Madam Bones glared down her thin nose at Harriet. "You may think you own the wizarding world, Ms. Potter, but I assure you that is not the case."<p>

"I..." Harriet swallowed thickly, her words caught in her throat not for the first time that morning. "I'm sorry, I didn't know-"

"That the time of the hearing was changed?" Madam Bones quickly supplied. "An owl was sent to your residence ahead of time."

"I'm sorry," Harriet apologized again, knowing little else to do with herself. They'd sent the owl to Privet Drive no doubt, but it wasn't as though she could simply _explain_ to them that she'd been snatched up by the Order and living in their secret headquarters ever since the attack. "I live with muggles. They don't like owls. Or me. They must have taken the letter and thrown it away..."

Madam Bones raised her hand to quiet her, not caring for Harriet's explanation in the slightest. "You'd do well not to tell any more _stories_, Ms. Potter."

"Take your seat," Fudge ordered, taking great in joy in being able to do so, and waved his wand so that a chair was whisked to the center of the courtroom floor. "I'd rather not waste my morning here if I can help it."

He smiled and some of the court chuckled in agreement. Fudge had clearly already made up his mind about how this would end - had made up some of their minds, too. But it was the farthest thing from her mind as she caught sight of which chair it was he'd sent.

It made a horrible scraping noise as it traveled to her. A tremor to ran down Harriet's spine at the sound. It wasn't so long ago that she'd seen Barty Crouch sitting in the exact same chair, the long silver chains locked to his wrist and cuffing him there along with his fellow Death Eaters on trial. The one's who had tortured Neville's parents...

Those chains were twinkling at her now, inviting her to take a seat. She was going to be sick...

Harriet took care to balance herself on the very edge.

She felt hot. Like one of the ants trapped under Dudley's magnifying glass when they were children. There were at least fifty members of the court staring down at her from the pulpit, all with the same appraising look in their eye.

Percy Weasley sat to her right. He did not meet her heated look or give her any sign of recognition, quill poised at the ready to copy down notes for his beloved Minister. He glanced up at Fudge from over his small framed glasses, being especially careful not to let his gaze pass over Harriet. It made her nauseous and furious all at once. "Ready, sir."

Fudge gave an appreciative nod to him, coughed to clear his throat, then called the court into order. "Disciplinary hearing of the twelfth of August into offenses committed under the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery and the International Statute of Secrecy by Harriet Lily Potter, resident of number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey."

Percy copied all of that down quickly. It reminded Harriet of Rita Skeeter and her Quick-Quotes Quill, how it anxiously scribbled away at the parchment for her without Rita having to ever move her hand. Surely Percy could afford one as nice as hers with all the money he was getting being Fudge's personal assistant, his lapdog - from being so much more 'ambitious' than his father.

Harriet thought he ought to be ashamed of himself, but the feeling did not last long. Fudge was nearly finished going through his rather long list of attendees, sweeping away any other concerns she might have had. She couldn't recognize any of the names, aside from his own and Percy's. Her heart was thrumming against her ribs as he finished on a rather soundly 'Logain Pubumpkin'.

"Very good. Now that we're all accounted for-"

"You should add that Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore is standing as Ms. Potter's defense, of course."

"Oh," Fudge grimaced as Dumbledore entered the courtroom, tapping his fat fingers against the wooden slat in front of him. "_You're_ here. I see you got our letter about the rescheduling, then?"

"No, I'm afraid I missed it. However, I _did _come three hours early. So it wasn't any trouble at all."

"How fortunate..."

"Rather unfortunate that I was unable to receive the letter to begin with, I would say. But, ah well."

Dumbledore looked calm in the face of everything, and Harriet's fastly beating heart swelled with hope. If anyone could sort this out it would be him. She was going to make it out of this.

...Only he wasn't looking at her, she realized. No matter how long she stared at him, hoping he would give her some sort of sign that everything _would_ be okay, he never looked her way. Harriet's brows furrowed, wondering why that was before her attention was forcible snapped back to Fudge.

"You are Harriet Jane Potter of number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, correct?"

"Yes," she answered. Sirius's words hung fresh in her mind. Stay calm and stick to the truth. Everything will work itself out. "Yes. I am."

"You received an official, documented warning from the Ministry for a similar incident concerning your use of underaged magic three years ago, did you not?"

"Yes, but-"

"And yet you conjured a Patronus on the night of the second of August?"

"Yes," said Harriet. "but-"

"_Knowing_ that you are not permitted to use magic outside of your institution of learning while under the age of seventeen?"

"Yes, but-"

"Fully aware that you were in a muggle populated area?"

"YES, but I only used it because we were-"

"A fully fledged patronus? That's a highly advanced bit of magic," commented Madam Bones, looking at Harriet now with something other than harsh criticism. "Tell me, child, what form does your patronus take?"

"A stag," Harriet felt breathless now; were they ever going to let her explain herself? "Professor Lupin taught me in third year because of the-"

"And at such a young age, too. That's very impressive."

"Advanced magic in the plain view of a muggle," Fudge spat, effectively killing off any positive thought about her that may have entered the room. "I'd say that's a far bit more than impressive, Amelia, that's dangerous."

"I only did it because of the dementors!" Harriet shouted. "I was protecting myself!"

"Dementors? That's preposterous, there are no dementors in muggle suburbs! That's quite the cover you've thought up for yourself, Ms. Potter. Muggles can't see dementors, can they? Very convenient for you. Only your word then, no witnesses?"

"I'M NOT LYING! Why else would I use a patronus? There were two of them, and one of them went after my cousin - the muggle -, I had to save him, they were going to kiss him! I-"

"ENOUGH." Fudge looked ready to set a dementor on her right where she sat. "I do so hate to interrupt your wonderful performance, which was very well rehearsed indeed, but I'm afraid if you have no witnesses..."

Harriet began to shake. No witnesses. She was _really _going to be sick this time. Why hadn't anyone prepared her for that? She'd been protecting herself, doing the job others had neglected to do, and they... they were going to...

"Pardon me, Cornelius, but I am afraid someone _did _witness the attack. If you'll excuse me. Mrs. Figg! Yes, yes, come in please."

Harriet's head was still swimming when the old woman scooted into the room in her fuzzy carpet slippers. Dumbledore had brought a witness - _the _witness! Hope instantly swelled in her again. Mrs. Figg had been there that night to see it all, screaming to the high heavens about Mundungus' lack of vigilance. Surely she could help them change their minds about what happened that night, even if she was a squib!

"Can you lot see dementors?" asked a balding man from one of the higher benches, skeptical of the Mrs. Figg already. Obviously he thought she'd been fed lies for them or bribed to the stand, but Harriet knew better than anyone that Mrs. Figg would not have budged from her home if it meant she'd have to tell a lie.

"Yes, we can! They're black, in cloaks, and bring out the worst in people," Her usually wavering tones had so much strength in them that Harriet hardly recognized her. "This girl is telling the truth, which is more than I can say for _some _people. Two dementors attacked her and that horrible muggle cousin of hers and they just about killed them. Perhaps you should worry more about where your guards are going than picking on an innocent girl!"

"HARDLY INNOCENT." Fudge roared, astounded by the mere suggestion of Harriet being such a thing. He pounded his fist. "As far as I'm concerned, this woman could not see a dementor if one were a centimeter from her face! There is no evidence that they were there!"

"_If_ there were though, perhaps it would not be a coincidence," Dumbledore cut in. "That the dementors were in Little Whinging that night."

"Are you suggesting the Ministry attacked this girl?" Fudge asked with a pained laugh, using his hand to gesture wildly that Percy show Mrs. Figg the way out.

"Don't touch me." Mrs. Figg hissed at Percy, her heels clicking loudly as she shuffled back out of the courtroom. Harriet turned in the chair and caught the sudden look of remorse on her babysitter's withered face before the door slammed shut.

"Not at all," Dumbledore answered coolly, as if what had happened to Mrs. Figg had not actually happened at all. "In fact, I have all confidence in the Ministry. I do expect there will be a full investigation into these claims?"

"It is not for you to decide what the Ministry does or does not do!" he yelled, his full cheeks inflamed with indignation.

"Of course not. Just as it is not yours to decide whether or not Harriet is expelled from my school."

"No," Fudge agreed readily, his fat chin still quivering with rage. "But we can assure that Harriet never touches a wand again. I will say it for you once more, Dumbledore, in case your hearing has gone bad as well as your mind. There. Are. No. Dementors. Outside of the Ministry's control. This was all obviously made up, so I say we put this to a vote now and get back to work. Yes?"

Harriet froze. She felt that her heart had plummeted down to the pit of her stomach. They were going to do it, weren't they? They were going to take it all away from her, over this... over protecting Dudley, protecting herself... it wasn't even her fault, really...

"All in favor?"

Her eyes stung and she fought not to show it. Hands flew up and she couldn't- she couldn't count how many. One, three, seven, fifteen _at least_...

No, the hearing should have lasted longer. She'd not said very much at all, no one had said very much, and she was certain she'd not made any kind of good impression like Mrs. Weasley told her to... twenty... twenty five...

If they only gave her one more chance to explain herself, to remind them of how horrible the dementors were and how close they were to kissing Dudley, they'd _have _to change their minds. She was defending herself, wasn't that allowed?! Everyone had said it was! Everyone had said they'd had no case and not to worry!

Everyone had said that her luck couldn't possibly run out.

"I'm so sorry, Harry." Dumbledore whispered to her from somewhere behind her head, taking a hand to her shoulder and pulled her up by her shirt. She couldn't stand on her own and he knew it. In her heart, she felt she'd already known the verdict, but... she'd never imagined...

"Let the motion pass," Fudge slammed his gavel down and the sound of it felt like she'd been shot. "Let it be known that Harriet Lily Potter is no longer permitted to possess a wand. If she is detected doing so for _any _reason at all, a lifetimes sentence in Azkaban will follow. You may hand over your wand to the Ministry now, Harriet. I am deeply sorry that it turned out like this, but you must understand. We cannot excuse you of being so irresponsible simply because you _used _to be a bit of a celebrity."

It was as good as if he'd slapped her. Celebrity had nothing to do with it, she didn't want this. She didn't ask for any of this! They were taking away the only thing that could protect her from Voldemort. It was the death penalty, a public execution. She was as good as dead.

Surely Dumbledore had some sort of plan, why wasn't he saying anything?!

Before Harriet could reach for it herself - to take it and run -, Dumbledore's hand plucked her wand from her back pocket. She watched in a trance as his arm moved forward toward Fudge. No, no she didn't want to give it up...

"Like I said, Harriet." Her heart stopped. "I am... _deeply_... sorry."

_Crack_.

Without looking at her, Dumbledore turned and swept from the room. She was so close to falling without his support, but evidently he didn't care. Fudge's apology buzzed ruthlessly in her ears.

The Wizengamot all got to their feet, talking amongst themselves and gathering their things. It was all in a days work for them. But Harriet was stranded, left to bleed out and die like a wounded animal. They all filed out in a blur of robes and satisfied faces.

...She had to leave.

Harriet steeled herself. Moving mechanically, she swung open the courtroom door where the cold air hit her face like a brash realization of reality and the lights dimmed to near darkness. She felt blinded by the tears she'd trapped in her eyes. Taking only one step forward, she slammed directly into Mr. Weasley. He looked pale, but upon seeing her he turned green.

"Dumbledore didn't say..."

"They did it." The words were torn from her throat. She couldn't keep control over her emotions like this; she didn't want to talk about it. "Can you take me back now? Please?"

"Oh love, I'm so sorry. None of us-"

She was sorry too. But she didn't think she could stand being in the same building with the people who took _everything _away from her a second longer. She marched past him, hardly keeping it together but determined to do so for as long as she could anyway. "Take. Me. Back. _Please_."

"R-right," Mr. Weasley stammered in her wake. "I have that toilet in Bethnal Green to deal with so we can leave now. If you like. This way."

Mr. Weasley called the lift for them, watching her out of the corner of his eye. Harriet wiped her cheek on her sleeve, staring at the door at the opposite end of the hall instead. _Department of Mysteries _read the dusty plaque nailed to it, the tarnished silver gleaming in the torchlight.

_Department of Mysteries, Department of Mysteries, Department of Mysteries _- Mr. Weasley took her by the arm and the lift closed behind them.

The sound of her wand snapping in half played over and over in her mind. She could still see it, splintered and broken, and she was quite certain she'd never stop seeing it. She'd never do magic again, she'd never see Hogwarts again...

Maybe she could be like Hagrid and be allowed to stay on the grounds. The thought wasn't as comforting as it ought to have been.

The doors to the lift shook open and Mr. Weasley ushered her out. He took her by the arm again, hand secured around her elbow, and he kept his head down. Steering her in another direction, he said so low that only she could hear, "This way, Harriet. This way."

Harriet's head whipped around to where he was pulling her away from, not wanting to miss a thing anymore - not a _single _thing. In the middle of all the Ministry workers rushing about to get to their offices was Lucius Malfoy, talking in earnest to Fudge beside the fountain.

Her blood ran cold.

She remembered that night in the graveyard so vividly. She'd been seeing it every night in her dreams since. It was Pettigrew cutting through her arm and feeding her blood to that, that abomination. It was Lucius Malfoy's eyes, silver and full of hate, peering through the slits in his mask. It was his voice shouting the killing curse at her, Cedric limp in her arms.

"I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE!" Harriet shouted into the piercing quiet of the offices. Mr. Weasley failed to drag her away in time. Everyone was giving them looks, but all she could see was red. All she could see was Cedric. "YOU CAN FOOL EVERYONE ELSE, BUT YOU CAN'T FOOL ME. I WAS THERE."

Mr. Weasley's grip on her shoulders was starting to hurt. His fingers dug into her skin. He was no longer being gentle about it - they needed to go. Now. But Harriet couldn't help her cries any longer, tears streaming down her cheeks as the two men turned away from her as if she were nothing to them but an embarrassing display. "I know what you are... I was _there_."


	2. Chapter 2

Following his rousing party the night before, the young man who lived in number 11 Grimmauld Place had indulged himself in a bit of a lie-in. This allowed Harriet to finally put a face to the name as she and Mr. Weasley slowly made their way up the sidewalk. The man's eyes were bloodshot and weary as he trotted down the worn steps to his stoop, a rubbish bag fit to burst and clinking with empty bottles held loosely in his hand. From what she understood, the haggard look was not unusual for him. Members of the Order coming into the headquarters from the outside were always complaining that their neighbor was up at some ghastly hour again, drinking and playing his obnoxiously loud music.

Harriet had never heard him herself. The headquarters was soundproofed against all other buildings in the area. Nothing could come in or out, Lupin had explained, though that hadn't stopped Mrs. Weasley from griping about 11's lack of common courtesy.

The man snorted as Harriet and Mr. Weasley approached, sounding sick, before stuffing his garbage noisily into the bin on the curb. He squinted hard against the sun, using his shirt to wipe off the sweat on his forehead, and then retreated back into his building.

"Funny. Muggle systems, I mean..." Mr. Weasley commented quietly as 11's door closed shut. "They have no way to expel it themselves so they have someone else take it away for them. I never have been able to figure out what happens to it after. One man's trash is anothers treasure and all that, I suppose? Ah, well..."

Mr. Weasley checked left, right, then behind him nearly four times before he was satisfied that there were no spies or muggle stragglers in sight. Not that they would see much of anything if there were. When at least three cars had passed by and he'd finished ducking his head around the mailbox, he turned to her and asked, "You remember what the note said, Harry?"

Harriet did remember, though she could hardly figure out why. It was common information to her now. Just before it had burned up in her hand, the note had said that Grimmauld Place 12 was located between - as the thought entered her head the Black Family Mansion inflated in the middle of the complex, pushing the buildings on either side of it out of its way. Mr. Weasley stepped forward and tapped his wand calmly on the black painted door that appeared and in turn it made several loud, metallic clicks.

The two of them entered the warm foyer, shrugging off their jackets and hanging them on the antique severed troll leg which served as a rack. Mrs. Weasley could be heard in the kitchen, pans rattling. "WOULD YOU GIVE IT A REST ALREADY? You're worse than the children! You've been under my feet all morning, Sirius, I'm sure they'll be back soon. Remus, tell him they'll be back soon, he doesn't listen to me - what was that? Was that the door?"

Mrs. Weasley's head popped out into the foyer seconds later, flour mixed into her hair and caked generously on her apronless dress. "You're back already? What's happened, is everything alright? I wasn't expecting you back until at least dinner! Oh-oh dear..."

"Let's not talk about it now, Molly," Mr. Weasley warned his wife gently, nudging Harry in the direction of the stairwell. "You go up to bed, Harry. Get some rest."

Harriet slipped past them both with the intent of doing just that, but Sirius had been anxiously waiting to see her again and had already turned the corner after Mrs. Weasley. All too quickly he swooped down upon her, taking her head in his hands and forcing her to look deep into his eyes so he could see the extent of the damage for himself. Her face burned and she wanted nothing more than for him to let go of her, for him to not be leaning his forehead against her own like that. She jerked away, but he merely tucked the top of her head under his chin and raised a hand to pet her hair, locking his other arm around her waist. Something horrible tried clawing its way up her throat, and in that moment she wished for nothing more than to not be standing there.

"Dumbledore sent an owl just after you left, of _course _you can stay with me." he whispered to her soothingly. "You'll never have to go back to those horrible muggles again, I promise you. It'll be just the two of us, yeah? We'll be alright-"

Harriet pushed him away and he looked as though she'd snapped his heart in two. But she didn't have it in her to feel sorry about it now - or about anything anymore. "He said I could stay with you, did he?"

"Well, yes, Harry. He did," Sirius answered hesitantly, his face looking suddenly older than before. "Do you not... _want_... to stay with me? If you don't, I... I suppose I understand. I just thought, maybe together we-"

"I'm so glad he gets to make all of these decisions for me. It's worked out great for me so far." Harriet was not at all upset about never having to go back to Privet Drive. If it had been for any other reason, she'd have been overjoyed by the news. But the thought that now, now he'd given her his permission to do so... "Staying at the Dursley's so I could be attacked by dementors, telling the truth at the hearing so he could GIVE them my wand - and now that it's broken, I can finally live with my godfather! How generous of him to let me stay."

"I'm sure he didn't give them your wand, Harry..." said Mr. Weasley attempting to reason with her, but she could hear the heat behind it and it only fueled her.

"You didn't see him. He didn't even look at me! The whole time - nothing!"

"Even so, you shouldn't have shouted at Lucius Malfoy like that." He pointed a finger at her, his face going a classic shade of Weasley red. She'd only ever seen Ron look that way at her. She could tell he'd been waiting to gently scold for her dramatics, but now that everything was out in the open he was going to get it over with. "I know you were angry, but we have to be careful. We can't just go around yelling that we know so-and-so is a Death Eater. What you did today will have serious repercussions."

"Malfoy?" Sirius growled. "What the bloody hell was he doing there?"

"I don't know, but we saw him speaking to Fudge and Harriet went ballistic!" Mr. Weasley finished kicking off his boots at the door and made his way into the dining hall, taking a seat at the table. "He was a little late for the hearing if that was what he wanted in on,

the bastard."

"Shouldn't have shouted?" Harriet, only half realizing that she'd been standing in complete shock a moment before, pursued him into the low lit room. "Oh, that's so easy for you to say isn't it? You know, I seem to remember you getting into a fist fight with him in Flourish and Blotts for a lot less. And let's not forget who's fault it was that Ginny had Tom Riddle's diary in the first place! Or don't you know that? Don't you remember that?"

"I care for my daughter more than anything in this world, and as much as I'd like to kill him myself that doesn't mean I can-"

"YOU'RE not the one who has to see him every night in your dreams," Harriet spoke over him. "I have to keep reliving that night in the graveyard over and over and over - I see his face, all of their faces, everywhere I go. When you've had his and Voldemort's wand at your throat, THEN you can tell me I'm overreacting. But until then-"

"We're your family, Harry." Mrs. Weasley came toward her with such a sad, pitying look in her eye. It made Harriet feel sick. "All we want - all anyone here wants - is what's best for you. Arthur's trying to keep you safe, there's no telling what Lucius could have done to you for that!"

"You kept me in the dark so I could get attacked!"

Mrs. Weasley stood up to her full height, not at all appreciative of that. "That is not true, Harriet! Dumbledore said-"

"I don't _care _what Dumbledore says. This is MY life, it's ME Voldemort's after. If I don't have a wand to protect myself with, I at least want to know what's happening. It's the Order's fault the dementors were able to attack me in the first place so from now on I want to be in every meeting. When I ask a question, I expect it to be answered. No more keeping things from me!"

"The stunt you pulled at the Ministry with Lucius Malfoy is _EXACTLY _why we've been keeping things from you! You're not ready for that much responsibility! You're only a little girl!"

"No, no - Harriet's right. It's the Order's fault she's in this situation in the first place." There was something akin to pride in Sirius' voice as he watched her. Perhaps it was her anger, her sudden rebelliousness against Dumbledore's wishes... whatever it was, he seemed to appreciate it. "If you want to leave your children out of it and have them live in this fantasy world, that's your prerogative. But let's not forget who's been dealing with Voldemort and his followers from the time she was eleven. I'd say it's a little late to be keeping things from her now. Harry's more than proved her worth at this table. Have any of you gone up against Voldemort and won recently? Or aren't you too busy washing dishes and kissing ministry arse?"

"I'm sorry, Molly, but I'm going to have to agree with Sirius on this." Lupin had been watching the scene from the kitchen, cupping what appeared to be a hot mug of tea. "I've been telling you all from the beginning. If Harry is properly informed she'll be less likely to do the things you're all so terrified she'll run out and do. I know Harry. If we treat her like an adult she's bound to act like one. And to be frank, I don't think anyone here would have done anything different in her position. She has every right to be angry with us."

Mr. Weasley watching worriedly as a united front formed at either side of Harry, Sirius with his hand resting on her shoulder and Remus flanking, still calmly nursing his mug of tea. Neither with children of their own, of course, and no way to understand _why_ he and Molly did what they did. He visibly deflated, hand coming up beneath his glasses to rub tiredly at his eyes. His wife took the look of submission almost as a personal attack.

"Aren't you going to say something, Arthur?!"

"One of you will have to owl Dumbledore and make him aware of the situation..."

"Don't bother," Harriet told him scathingly over Mrs. Weasley's loud cries demanding if they were all mad. "I'll tell him myself."

"That's my girl!" Sirius moved to pat her back in a congratulatory manner, but Harriet had no intention of staying long enough for him to follow through. She turned on her heel as the painting of his mother began her usual spiel which shook the house, using her shrieking as well as Mrs. Wealey's as cover to lose herself down one of the only recently explored hallways in hopes of being alone. Out of her peripheral vision she caught sight of the twins leaning against the railing and listening in as best they could, but thankfully no one came after her.

Harriet didn't know what she'd do if anyone tried.

Without her wand, what could she do?


	3. Chapter 3

Harriet woke the next morning with a drunken start, blinking up at the cobwebbed covered ceiling of the abandoned study she vaguely remembered locking herself into the night before. She immediately noticed the presence of several fluffed pillows comfortably tucked under her head, a warm blanket draped over her along with it. There was a heavy weight pressed on her hip, something soft caught in her hand, and it wasn't until she opened her eyes that she recognized it to be Sirius masquerading as the ever affectionate Snuffles, snoring soundly with his head in her lap. The letter she'd written to Dumbledore had mysteriously vanished from the coffee table, and she could only think he had something to do with that.

Careful so as not to disturb the sleeping mass of black fur at her side, Harriet sat up and rubbed her tired eyes. She couldn't remember the last time she'd slept like that - couldn't remember the last time she'd not woken up in a cold sweat with a searing pain in her forehead and thoughts of Cedric...

It was impossible to tell from the windows what time it was. Sirius had said they'd been enchanted long ago to only ever show sunny, spring weather all year round, but after so long the magic had worn away. One was stuck on a cold, rainy night and the other opened up to the reddish-brown brick of the neighboring apartment building.

The distinct smell of Mrs. Weasley's cooking hit her nose after a moment, and she knew it was not so early that breakfast wasn't being made. Not wanting to wake Sirius, Harriet tiptoed out of the room, the floorboards creaking in her wake despite all her efforts. The door clicked shut behind her, but there was thankfully no sound of movement beyond it.

Kreacher was out of hiding for once, taking an old wirey brush and scrubbing the walls with what looked like equally old murky water. He looked up and snarled at her, as though she were something very grotesque to look at, and his loose gray skin rippled with new creases.

The house elf only ever made an effort to clean when Sirius ordered him to. Even then he did not use one ounce of magic to do so, taking hours at a time to complete any task. He'd usually stop and glare at someone until he was kicked out again, leaving the job wholly unfinished. Harriet had the feeling Sirius had asked him to clean up around the study because she was in there, which would easily have explained the increase in hostility toward her.

"Filthy wretch, nosey halfing," he sniped, grumbling so low it was hard to make out the words. "Product of sin she is. Rotten. Rotten to the core."

Ordinarily Harriet would have provided him the small kindness of shooing him off back to his hole in the kitchen. She didn't need anybody cleaning up for her sake. But she was already so _fed up_ with him, fed up with everyone. There was only so much she could take. Hermione would have had a conniption if she knew that for even a split second Harriet wanted to kick the elf and see how far he'd go. All over the same pureblood trite he'd been spewing from the second they got there.

"Shouldn't _you_ be cooking our breakfast instead of Mrs. Weasley?" she snapped at him, not at all feeling sorry for wanting to stomp on him anymore as he growled at her like one of Marjorie Dursley's bulldogs. "Don't you think she has better things to do than pick up your slack?"

"Kreacher does not take orders from the misses yet," he went back to spitefully scrubbing the wall, shaking his head so his wrinkly ears flopped. "Not yet Kreacher doesn't."

"I'd turn you out before you took orders from me." The flash of worry in his eyes assured her she'd hit her mark, but then his features reverted back to their usual sourness all too quickly. In light of the threat, he tossed the brush back into the rusted bucket with a sickening 'plop' and drug his feet all the way down to the other end of the hall. Then he sat down heavily, like a child that'd been scolded. Harriet didn't wait around to see him get back to his orders, or even stay to berate him some more. Instead she turned her back on him, storming off in the opposite direction.

Why had it bothered her so much? She should have been used to it by now. But then, he'd never called her nosey before. And where had he heard that from?

Following the murmur of voices down the winding corridors, Harriet retraced her steps back to the foyer. A low glow stretched out along the floor through the half-open door of the dining hall, the only light on in all of the house. It really was early, and Harriet wondered if she shouldn't make the trip up the stairs and crawl quietly into bed.

Bed sounded like a great idea...

Harriet shuffled around to the staircase, deciding yes, yes, bed would be good.

"She's only a girl, Remus." At the muffled sound she paused, hand still as stone on the railing.

"I know, better than you think. I'm simply telling you that if Harriet knows it's an option she'll take it. Once she's decided, I doubt there will be anything we can do or say to change her mind. As I told you before, this is an unnecessary precaution. It shouldn't be brought up to her."

Want what? They were talking about her again, weren't they... Harriet stepped down the single stair she'd climbed, moving slowly toward the light. She leaned in close to the door, nearly pressing her ear to the wall, and held her breath.

"How could he suggest something like this?"

"It wasn't _him _who suggested it... he just gave the order."

"The fact that we're even discussing this is - is - barbaric!" screeched the unmistakable voice of Mrs. Weasley. "If she can't be trusted to behave she may as well be sent to Hogwarts with the rest of them, wand or no wand! She'll be safer there."

"That'd be sending one hell a message to the Ministry."

"She will be safer with Sirius, Molly."

"Like hell she will be. I'd sooner take her home with me than leave her here with him. FIFTEEN years in Azkaban-"

"For a crime that he did NOT commit-"

"And you'll have her living here alone with him! Merlin knows what could be going on in his head."

"You forget I'll be here with them, Molly."

"Not all the time!"

"Nothing is going to happen. Sirius cares about Harry more than you know, he'd do anything to make up for his absence. He wants to spend this time with her while he can."

"We trust Sirius. None of us think he'd try to hurt her," Mr. Weasley cut in before his wife could tell them all otherwise. "Besides, sending the girl to a wizarding school without a wand is like throwing a kitten into a pack of lions. I'd... I'd even say it's more cruel than this. At least here she has a chance. She can get some rest. Study. Get to know her godfather... her family."

"WE'RE her family, Arthur-"

"But the Unbreakable Vow... surely you must all agree that it is overstepping our bounds? There must be some spell we can put around the doors and windows-"

"We can't risk her undoing them," said another voice. "And that would shut us all out, would it? Then there's Flu Powder to consider, and portkeys... those are only the popular ones. She could get creative."

"I'm sorry," Harriet pushed the door the rest of the way open, the sound of it swinging harshly on its hinges evidently earth shattering as heads snapped in her direction. There was Lupin and Mr. Weasley sitting at the table, along with Bill, Mundungus, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Mad-Eye Moody. Mrs. Weasley stood behind her husband, her knuckles going white as she clutched the back of his chair. "The Unbreakable what?"

It became so quiet Harriet could hear Mrs. Weasley grinding her teeth.

"There's no keeping it from her now, I don't think," Lupin said to them all tiredly and then looked back at her, an unplaceable expression etched on his weathered face. "Sit down, Harry."

Harriet pulled out the empty chair beside him, watching their solemn expressions closely. "So I can't be trusted to behave then?"

Mr. Weasley's brows furrowed, eyes locking meaningfully with hers. "...No, Harry."

"Frankly, we're all very scared for you," said Bill. "You see, Harry... you have a history of... well, putting yourself in the front lines."

"We can't have you playing the hero the second something goes wrong," Mundungus added gruffly. "You running out of the house for who knows what, without a wand, no training - it'd be suicide. And you're too valuable to go and get yourself killed on us."

"Glad to know I'm so valuable now you've got your back alley cauldrons and I've lost the only means of protecting myself." Harriet retorted scathingly, and Mundungus glowered. She should have been blaming the Ministry, Dumbledore, The Order, not him, but her blood was boiling. Was it so wrong to want to save people, to take responsibility? Many times she'd had no choice!

Looking around at them all, her chest hurt. They thought she was doing it for attention like the Daily Prophet said, didn't they? The people who were supposed to be on her side... "Playing the hero... you know, if you're so worried about my history you might take a look at my track record as well."

"No one's doubting your ability, Harry. But certainly you must see _why_ this a concern?" Bill asked of her imploringly, worrying his scarred hands on the table.

"If we are expected to meet the demands you addressed in your letter to Dumbledore last night," Kingsley paused, as if the second half of the sentence was too hard to say to her. "You're going to have to take the Unbreakable Vow."

"No, no! We haven't decided on that yet," interrupted Mrs. Weasley. "Only dark wizards use the Unbreakable Vow, Harry. It's savage and we won't be using it on you."

"I think I can make that decision for myself, thank you."

"Of course you can, Harry." Lupin laughed hollowly.

"You'd be promising to never leave this house without another member of the Order present with you," Kingsley told her regretfully. "You'd be giving up your freedom for this. And there's not much you can do from behind these walls. I'd tell you it's not worth it."

The entire room went still. All eyes were drawn to Harriet, no one daring to so much as breath lest it influence her decision. It took longer than it should have for Harriet to understand what all the words meant, but once she did she could only think of one thing. "I don't have a wand. There's not much I can do outside of them either."

"The Unbreakable Vow is a promise. Sealed by magic," Lupin emphasised helplessly. "Harry, if you take one step out that door without one of us with you... you die."

"If I take one step out that door without someone to protect me? I die anyway. Don't lie to me and say I'd be able to leave whenever I wanted, you'd never let me. It's not safe for me anymore. I'd rather be here, in the meetings, than locked up in my room with no way of knowing what's going to happen. If Dumbledore wants me to take the Vow, I'll take it. He can't scare me anymore than I already am. Voldemort's coming for me. And I'm not going to wait around for him to find me."

The silence that fell was deafening. Finally Mr. Weasley turned to her, his eyes swimming with lament. "Are you sure about this, Harry?"

"Arthur!" Mrs. Weasley gasped.

"I am." she said.

"Take his hand then," Mad-Eye's rough voice instructed. At Lupin's questioning look he explained, "It's better if the family does it. They're easier to forgive. Come around. You hold the wand, Remus."

Mr. Weasley's palm, much larger than her own and marred by years of tinkering, laid open on the table. It was spotted with freckles and sunspots, fingers thin and uncurled waiting for her to take it. Finally, Harriet placed her hand in his, and he laced them together.

Lupin got up out of his chair, pulling his wand shakily out of his waistcoat pocket. He placed the tip of it in the small space provided where their hands connected.

Mrs. Weasley gave a shudder and paced to the back of the room like a cold wind, putting her head in her hands. In a very soft, sad voice, she murmured,"Threatening a child with death..."

"Harriet Lily Potter, daughter of Lily and James Potter, do you swear," Mr. Weasley swallowed hard. "To never leave this house, unless escorted out by another member of the Order of the Phoenix?"

"I do," A stream of hot, red fire slithered out of Lupin's wand and around their wrist, circling their joined hands in great knots. The rings burst into flames, licking their skin, the crackle echoing Mr. Weasley's words. _Never. Never._ "I swear."

The color turned shimmering gold and then shattered like glass. The pieces evaporated into the air. _Never. _Their hands were still stuck, sweaty now and clutching at each other. Mr. Weasley was the first to let go. Lupin tucked his wand away, eyes cast down to the floor.

"That's enough for now. You can tell Dumbledore it's done," said Mr. Weasley coldly as he stood up from the table. His hands descended on her, pulling her up gently and into a quick hug. After which he said, "Alright, love. You go up to bed."

This time Harriet managed the order without being snatched by her godfather, trudging up the stairs to her room. Sirius had given her the one just to the right especially, with new enchantments on the windows that changed with the seasons and snow white silk curtains. It seemed to be the only part of the house he had bothered repainting as far as she knew.

Sirius had covered her eyes with his hand that day, leading her up the stairs and apologizing in her ear for it not being quite finished. He'd not been expecting her to arrive so early of course. He was too excited and pleased with himself to sound truely sorry about it.

And it was perfect.

Harriet threw herself onto her large, frilly bed, pulling down a pillow from above her head and holding it tightly to her chest. She'd promised herself she wouldn't cry again, and she didn't. But knowing she would be spending far longer than she thought in her _perfect_ room... was... hard.

_One step out that door... you die._

A feeling of helplessness and dread washed over her.

Above the headboard was an empty black canvas, one that normally would have supported a portrait of some witch or wizard, but was instead eerily blank. It was the last thing she saw before falling asleep, wondering if she'd truly seen the flash of green robes in it or if she was merely going insane.


	4. Chapter 4

**- Two Weeks Later - **

"Hurry it up if you wouldn't mind, Harry," Mrs. Weasley's voice rang up from the bottom of the stairs. "We're late enough as it is. _Someone _refused to let me wake you!"

"Sorry." Harriet said out of reflex, already feeling a headache coming on as she lumbered down the stairs. Another long night and no sleep to show for it. It seemed nothing short of a miracle that she'd managed a full eight hours the night after her hearing... which felt like ages ago now.

Lately every time she closed her eyes all she could see was that door, her hand reaching out to finally, finally see what was behind it.

_Department of Mysteries... _

"Oh, nevermind," Mrs. Weasley clicked, drawing Harriet out of her daze. Her arm was buried in her bag, up to her elbow, and she couldn't seem to find whatever it was she was looking for. "We've got so much to do today - Ron needs new robes, then we need to stock up at the apothecary, and of course everyone needs their books - ah, here's your list, dear. If you can get all of your things, I think I can take care of everyone else's before it's time to eat-"

"I have a list?" Harriet interrupted, looking bewildered between Mrs. Weasley and the scroll placed in her hand. She hastily peeled off the seal and unrolled the parchment, finding a list of books at least a foot long and twice that amount of ingredients, a new cauldron, insistence of parchment and quills...

"Of course you have a list," said Mrs. Weasley. "Dumbledore sent it with Professor Snape. Did he not mention it to you at the meeting last night?"

Harriet thought that Snape would rather try holding a conversation with a blast-ended skrewt than say anything to her. "No. Snape didn't say anything about-"

"_Professor_ Snape, Harry."

"Well, _Professor_ Snape didn't say anything."

"I hope we're not talking about him again, are we? Honestly you'd think some of you would tire of it." Sirius winked at Harriet, turning to the foyer's small dressing table and popping his collar in the mirror hung above it. Mrs. Weasley gave a noticeable grimace.

It was no secret to anyone how she felt about Sirius. Harriet felt torn between the two increasingly often - Mrs. Weasley, who had always been a substitute mother to her and had welcomed her into her home so many years ago, and Sirius, her true godfather who had only just come into her life -, and they both had very loud, very differing opinions about her.

Harriet had not quite gotten over all the things Mrs. Weasley said about Sirius. They'd been spending more and more time together, Sirius stealing Harriet away to peruse the house or find some kind of mischief, but all their bonding had not soothed the woman's worries. Which she was very adamant about voicing.

Her accusations had become such a routine nuisance that Harriet bristled every time she so much as said his name. Now being no exception to the rule.

"Where's Remus?" Mrs. Weasley asked, sounding every bit like the grouch she was currently being. "We need to head off now, the sooner the better."

"Remus? Oh, Remus isn't coming. I am. Didn't he tell you at the meeting last night?"

Sirius shot Harriet the knowing look that usually made her smile, but she couldn't this time. In fact, her face couldn't have fell any harder.

"And exactly what happened to Remus?!"

"Things are a little tied up right now," he said, attempting the look again to no avail. "Not that I did anything to make them that way, of course. Harry needs a guard, I'm here to help."

"Not if someone sees you and you wind up dead!" Harriet snapped.

"No one is going to recognize me," As he said it he began working the first few buttons of his shirt, undoing three of them before reaching for something hidden deep in his pocket. "I'll be in my animagus form the whole time. Don't worry about me, I'll be _fine_."

Harriet doubted that somehow, and she didn't much like that plan at all. A voice was shouting at her to tell him she didn't need a guard - no one would try to hurt her in Diagon Alley, not out in the open like it was. Mrs. Weasley was more than capable of getting her there and back! But she finally noticed exactly what it was he was holding and froze.

In his hand was a browning leather collar. He unclasped it, used the mirror to position it appropriately around his neck, and buckled it again. Then he took the long leash and clipped it on the small silver oval that hung down the front, holding the band aloft in his hand. Harriet started as he offered it to her.

"Here, take it." he said.

"I don't want it." she replied far too quickly.

"Your dad and I used to do this all the time, Harry. Makes it look like I'm a pet instead of a mangy mutt. Less suspicious that way. Take it, I promise it's alright."

It certainly looked about as old as that and she didn't doubt that they would do this sort of thing if it got a laugh. Harriet scrambled for a better argument. "But if they see you with me, they're going to assume you are my pet. And then they'll still kill you."

"Harry," Sirius trilled. "If you don't take it, I might just skip looking like a dog altogether. Then who's the one putting me in danger?"

Harriet looked back at Mrs. Weasley for help, but the older woman was occupied with the contents of her purse again and actually looked pleased for a change. Pleased that Harriet was upset at him for being so irresponsible anyway. "Still you." she muttered, but gingerly took the strap anyway and looped her hand through it.

"Great!" said Sirius, taking quick strides over to closet so that Harriet had to skip behind him in an attempt to keep his head from jerking back. He grabbed his coat and shrugged it on. "I was thinking while we were out we could get you some new clothes, too. Not school robes like the others of course, that'd be silly. Some everyday wear and something for the meetings-"

"But I already have clothes." Harriet said.

Sirius stopped short and turned around. "...you don't want to keep wearing your cousin's old rags, do you?"

Harriet glanced down at the clothes she'd been calling her own for the past three years and felt a sudden stab of inadequacy. The brown chocolate smear Aunt Petunia couldn't bleach out, the too small for Dudley but too big for her wrestling shorts, the scuffed garage sale trainers... he was right.

New clothes felt like something she'd never thought to want before, not like her firebolt or a Fizzing Whizzbee, but like her first ever bedspread and having her own bathroom.

"Young witch like you should be wearing the latest styles, don't you think? Give the Prophet something to _really _talk about. We could probably do something about your hair while we're at it. Give it a few layers until it grows out. They might have a potion we could try to make it longer-"

Sirius stopped short as there was a firm tug on the leash, the length of it now wrapped tightly around Harriet's fist. He could stop right there. "You can say whatever you want about my clothes but I like my hair how it is, thanks."

Sirius' hand curled over the collar, creating space between it and his throat, and then a grin crept into the corners of his mouth. "You know, James never jerked me around like that. Am I going to have to revoke your leash holding privileges?"

"You might have to at the rate you're going."

"A-HEM."

Mrs. Weasley had found whatever it was she was looking for in her bag, her voice cutting through their quiet conversation like a knife. They both turned to see her stood by the doorway, tapping a finger to her locket-watch.

Sirius shrunk down immediately, the clothes on his back replaced by a coat of thick, black fur. Mrs. Weasley swung the door open promptly and marched down to the stoop, her large purse wedge tightly at her side. Sirius followed after her.

But Harriet stopped. Like a brick wall had been erected in front of her. It touched all four corners of the portal to the outside world, blocking her from the streets and the clear blue sky. Her now furry companion sat back on his hind legs mere inches beyond the threshold, wagging his tail and looking at her expectantly, and Mrs. Weasley too turned around.

With a pitying glance she hiked back up the stairs to fetch her, reaching into the house and taking Harriet's hand in her own. "It knows, Harry. You can come out now. It's alright."

The grip on Mrs. Weasley's hand turned into a vice as Harriet allowed her left foot to venture outward... hit solid ground... and then the other... Then a wave of relief washed over her like nothing else. The sun warmed her face and the tops of her shoulders and it felt like heaven. She could go anywhere, do anything, and never come back.

Nearly a month it felt she'd been locked up, far, far too long...

"Arthur said that you would know how to get us to the muggle bus from here? And that you knew your way to Diagon Alley where it let off?"

And just like that, the fantasy was over. "Yeah, I can get us there."

The flu network and apparating were off limits for anyone who wasn't a Ministry official. Both systems were monitored by Fudge's most trusted. Using brooms was usually the solution to this, only they were reluctant to do anything of the sort with Harriet for fear of making her any easy target. So to the muggle bus they went.

Much like anything else that had to do with muggles, Mrs. Weasley didn't share the same fascination with their transportation as her husband had. They made it to the station three streets down without any questions being asked or, really, any sort of delay at all. Mrs. Weasley kept to herself the whole time, watching everyone around her wearily.

Harriet too felt... oddly unsettled. Perhaps it was Mrs. Weasley's attitude rubbing off on her, but her pulse was racing. Her eyes darted back and forth between the rows of seats. The scar on her head wasn't hurting as far as she could tell. Still, her first time out of the house was making her feel like a sitting duck.

"Do I look the part, Harry?" Mrs. Weasley whispered, leaning over on her bench seat so that it squeaked beneath her.

Harriet broke eye contact with the man six places down with a jump.

"You look great, actually." she said, but was far too distracted to give an honest answer.

"Oh, good."

"Mrs. Weasley?"

"Yes, Harry?"

In an attempt to make conversation, she said, "Where's everyone else?"

"They're already there, dear," She looked down at the panting dog with his head leaning against Harriet's knee. "Like I said before, _someone_ wouldn't let me wake you."

The bus shrieked to a stop and Harriet quickly weaved them through London, idly remembering a time when Hagrid had done the same for her but this time she couldn't help nervously looking over her shoulder. Sirius never strayed too far behind, the leash swinging at her side as a constant reminder of where he was. Upon noticing the Leaky Cauldron Mrs. Weasley bustled ahead and took the lead.

"_There_ you are," Mr. Weasley said as they entered, setting down his glass on the bar. It was only him and the landlord, Tom, in the back, a highly unusual lack of patrons for the hopping pub Harriet knew it to be. He hugged his wife and kissed her on the cheek. "We were scared you wouldn't show."

"Why? Arthur, what's happened?"

"Nothing. Everything's fine now, just a little confusion. We thought we heard something, must not have been true."

"But you _did _hear something?"

"Mollywobbles-"

"ARTHUR-"

"Keep your voice down, love - please. There was a rumor that Greyback was hiding somewhere in Knockturn Alley. Remus got tied up looking for him with a few others of his kind and we weren't sure what had happened to Harry. We're just glad you're both alright."

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley tied up in their own conversation, Harriet spent the following minute and a half glaring down at her escort. Sirius prompted her with big, glistening eyes, but she was far from moved. He would put everyone through all that for a chance to go school shopping with her?

A voice muttered that she would too if she'd been in that house as long as he had.

"What. Did. You. _Do?_"

Sirius whined.

* * *

><p>I was really excited to share this chapter with you guys; I feel like I'm finally getting to the part of the story I want to be at. I think I've replied to everyone's feedback by now, but I would love to hear more from you guys. Tell me what you think!<p> 


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